


love you properly

by theantepenultimateriddle



Series: hit or miss [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, just a one-shot, not the same style: third-person Lovelace POV and not first-person Minkowski, probably fits in the last part, sucker punch universe, that's not in the fic but it's canon, they have sex, they have sex so good god himself gives them finger guns and a wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: It’s been so long since she’s felt anything good, but this, this is satin-smooth skin over muscle, this is Minkowski who betrayed her and saved her and rescued her and whose hand Lovelace is guiding up to rest on her breast, over her heart. Minkowski, who doesn’t see her as something dirty or something to be hunted down anymore, who broke down the walls inside her head for her, who has killed for her. Minkowski thinks Lovelace is beautiful. Or at the very least, wants to have sex with her.Lovelace knows they’re not the same thing, and she’s not sure she cares.





	love you properly

Lovelace struggles with the buttons on her shirt, but Minkowski reaches up from underneath her to help, undoing it with sure fingers until it hangs loose around Lovelace’s braless torso. Her hands are soft, and Lovelace leans into her touch, savoring it. Then she shrugs her shirt off her shoulders, bends down, and kisses Minkowski slowly, feeling lips part almost in surprise under her. Minkowski tastes of the salt of sweat and the sweetness of green tea lip balm, and it makes Lovelace’s heart beat faster, so fast and hard that it feels like it’s going to jump out of her chest. Minkowski’s breathing is heavy, almost panting as she reaches up and buries her hand in Lovelace’s hair to pull her even closer, and Lovelace groans with pleasure. It’s a surprise after all the pain and all the suffering and all the bad things she’s been through. It’s been so long since she’s felt anything good, but this, this is satin-smooth skin over muscle, this is Minkowski who betrayed her and saved her and rescued her and whose hand Lovelace is guiding up to rest on her breast, over her heart. Minkowski, who doesn’t see her as something dirty or something to be hunted down anymore, who broke down the walls inside her head for her, who has killed for her. Minkowski thinks Lovelace is beautiful. Or at the very least, wants to have sex with her.

Lovelace knows they’re not the same thing, and she’s not sure she cares.

Minkowski rubs her thumb over Lovelace’s nipple and her breath catches in her throat, even as Minkowski makes a pleased noise deep in her chest. Lovelace moves her hands down further in response, going over Minkowski’s chest and waist to the hem of her shirt, toying gently with it. She runs her fingers lightly over the strip of skin just between the waistband of her pants and her shirt, and Minkowski arches her back against her, pushing up against Lovelace’s legs, which straddle her hips. Lovelace moves her mouth to kiss Minkowski’s neck, and the blood running through it pulses just under her lips, a reminder of how vulnerable they’re both choosing to be right now. If she wanted, she could kill Minkowski now, even as she kissed her. If Minkowski wanted, she could hurt her and hurt her and hurt her until any sort of pain she had suffered before was a dream. But Minkowski gasps as Lovelace moves her hands further up her body, touching her stomach and her sternum, and Lovelace marvels at this woman and everything about her.

She holds the vulnerability like a badge or a sign, like it’s something to be proud of rather than ashamed, and maybe it is after so long hiding any sort of weakness. Minkowski wears her defenselessness like a patch on her sleeve in the shape of her heart, just for Lovelace. 

The cords of her neck stand out as Lovelace sucks on it, and it leaves a mark behind, a trace that says,  _ Isabel Lovelace was here. I was here, and this one is mine. _ Lovelace kind of likes that. She has precious little in this world that is hers.

Minkowski grabs at her, trying to pull her closer, but Lovelace sits up and breaks the kiss, moving away even as Minkowski whimpers in protest. “Lift your arms up over your head,” she says, her voice quiet, and Minkowski obeys her, raising her arms as Lovelace tugs her shirt up and off of her. She tosses it over the back of the driver’s seat and reaches around Minkowski’s back, unhooking her bra and taking it off her. Then Lovelace sits back and looks at her, watching her, looking at the muscles of her stomach, the smooth slope of her chest. Minkowski’s eyes are laser-focused on her face, looking at Lovelace’s expression as if she’s going to jerk away at any moment. The expression dissipates into vague ecstasy as Lovelace reaches down and touches her, running her index finger down her chest, between her ribs. Lovelace strokes her skin, and the hand she has in Lovelace’s hair balls into a fist, pulling it slightly. Minkowski’s eyes go unfocused and vacant as Lovelace flattens her palm against her chest, cupping it gently around one of her breasts. Lovelace wonders what she’s thinking as she reaches down with her other hand and undoes Minkowski’s pants, wriggling slightly to get into a position where she can pull them and her underwear off. She guesses, as Minkowski gasps out a little “oh” of a noise and lifts her hips up against Lovelace, that it might not be a lot. 

Lovelace takes her hands off of Minkowski and starts undoing her own pants, unzipping them slowly and watching Minkowski’s eyes follow her hands. It’s a rush, watching her chest go up and down with panting breaths, feeling her move under her legs, slow undulations that send fire rushing through Lovelace’s body. She gets the zipper undone, and then Minkowski reaches up, her warm hands helping to pull her jeans off her hips, sliding her underwear down. Then they’re both just naked, no clothing. Nothing between them, just like it should be. 

As if by a secret signal, Lovelace pulls away from Minkowski at the same time as she moves back towards the end of the car seat, sitting there with her legs gently spread. For a long moment Lovelace runs her eyes up and down Minkowski’s body as if caressing her with them, and Minkowski drinks in her nakedness in turn, her pink lips parted slightly to show the redness of the tongue and white of the teeth within. The dark points of her nipples stand out as she inhales and exhales quickly. Her wavy black hair floats around her face, strands moving in the way as if swayed by a summer breeze, and Lovelace thinks about reaching out and pushing them back. She thinks about staying right there and watching Minkowski fall into disarray. She thinks about lunging forwards and kissing Minkowski hard, drawing her body against her and sliding her fingers into Minkowski’s slick depths and listening to her scream her name as the car rocks on its wheels in time to their bodies moving against each other. The only thing that stops her, even as she sees the wetness around Minkowski’s open legs and knows she wants this just as much, is the look in Minkowski’s dark eyes as they flick up and down over Lovelace, seeming to touch every bit of her. Lovelace flushes when she imagines what Minkowski must be seeing in her-- the scars crisscrossing her, the bruises and cuts from the torture, the bandages all over her body. But there’s no repulsion there. Minkowski’s eyes look like black holes, pulling her in. Her expression is like the void between the stars, empty and dark and  _ wanting _ , wanting desperately for the fire of a supernova to light the darkness. 

Lovelace has always wanted to be an explosion for someone. She has always wanted to be the thing that lights the darkness, the blast waves that knock everything else out of their path, the destruction and the rebirth all in one. She moves forwards, and Minkowski meets her in the middle, their lips meeting like galaxies colliding.

Lovelace pulls Minkowski close, then lies her back down like before, belly up and exposed. Lovelace moves back as Minkowski looks up at her and pants, drawing desperate breaths from a car that suddenly seems lacking in it. “Captain,” Minkowski whispers, and opens her legs, wrapping them around Lovelace’s hips. Her heels hit the small of Lovelace’s back, just above her bare ass. Minkowski continues, her voice raising into something like a plea, or a prayer. “I need you. I want you. Please,” she says, suddenly reaching around Lovelace and pulling her flush, digging her nails into Lovelace’s shoulder blades.

How could Lovelace possibly refuse such an invitation?

She slides herself down Minkowski’s body slowly, kissing her as she goes. Briefly Lovelace pauses to wrap her mouth around one of her breasts, licking gently at her nipple, and Minkowski gasps and presses her chest up towards her, but she’s already moved on. Lovelace trails her tongue down the bumps of Minkowski’s rib cage, leaving a line of saliva glistening behind like the trail of a slug, a marked path down her beautiful skin. Minkowski has a birthmark, next to her belly button, a slightly darker misshapen splotch in the shape of absolutely nothing that Lovelace can see, and she kisses it gently, pressing her lips to Minkowski’s stomach and feeling the shape of Minkowski’s inhale against her. Minkowski lets go of her shoulders to put her hands on her hair again, grabbing handfuls roughly, and Lovelace gasps, the air going out of her with a heavy  _ whoosh. _ She slides herself down further, pushing herself down past Minkowski’s hips, all the way down. Minkowski’s feet are resting on her shoulders now, and Minkowski is spread out under her, wet and pink and so open and surrounded by curling dark hair, her hips moving in tiny, anticipatory twitches. Lovelace balances herself on the cracked leather of the old car seat and lowers her mouth down to Minkowski’s crotch, and Minkowski makes a desperate crooning noise that is almost painful to hear. Lovelace sticks her tongue out and licks her, and Minkowski’s fists in her hair clench tighter, shoving her mouth up against her skin. She tastes so good, so  _ right,  _ and Lovelace loves this and she loves Minkowski and she loves the faint whine that comes from Minkowski’s throat as she raises her hips up against Lovelace’s mouth. 

Lovelace moves her mouth against Minkowski, licking gently, playing around the first few inches of her opening with her tongue. The noises Minkowski is making are getting steadily louder more desperate as she grinds against Lovelace’s mouth, up until she’s making frustrated groaning noises and tugging hard at Lovelace’s hair in an attempt to get her to go faster. She doesn’t-- just teases, enjoying how slick Minkowski is, how every shred of her dignity is coming apart in Lovelace’s hands and mouth. Minkowski pulls her closer, clenches her legs around her shoulders and calls her name like she’s forgotten Lovelace can hear her. “Lovelace, Lovelace,  _ Captain,”  _ she says, and she sounds like she’s begging or praying, loud and pleading. The way she says  _ Captain _ makes Lovelace’s stomach heat up. Lovelace has never been able to resist pretty girls asking her for things, so she gives Minkowski what she wants. She reaches a hand up and forms a V with the fingers on her good hand, spreading Minkowski further, and then begins to eat her out in earnest, licking the ridges of her inner walls. Minkowski’s heels slam down hard on Lovelace’s back, hitting her with a hollow  _ thump _ , but Lovelace feels no pain. She just moves her mouth up to suck on the nub of Minkowski’s clit, hidden in her folds, and Minkowski cries out, her back arching hard off the seat for a moment before landing back down. Lovelace raises her head for a second to give Minkowski a smile, and she takes in the look on her face, all hair in disarray and vague eyes that focus briefly on Lovelace. The pure adoration and desire in her gaze takes Lovelace’s breath away for a second, and her hand not on Minkowski’s body wanders up to her own inner thigh, clenching for a second before she moves back down to continue fucking Minkowski with her tongue. Minkowski’s cries are getting louder and more urgent as Lovelace licks her at her leisure. Minkowski is so warm and so soft against her mouth, so wet, and Lovelace sticks her tongue in far _.  _ She seems to hit a spot, something deep,  _ deep _ inside of Minkowski, and Minkowski screams in response, high pitched and keening. Her entire body tenses, then relaxes by degrees until she’s entirely limp. Her hands fall away from Lovelace’s hair, and her legs relax. 

Lovelace takes her mouth away and looks at Minkowski lying prone in front of her, breathing hard, very slowly coming back to earth and to the car and to Lovelace, who wipes her mouth slowly on the back of her hand and smiles at her. “Good?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“Out of this world,” whispers Minkowski, and Lovelace laughs. 


End file.
